The All-Ireland football final, 18th September 2011, Croke Park.

It is the 70th minute. The scores are level: Kerry 1-11 Dublin 1-11. The third official has just raised the board to show that there will only be 2 minutes of injury time. Dublin have the kick out. Cluxton kicks long to Dublin’s number 6 Ger Brennan, who wins it and is fouled by Kieran Donaghy. Referee Joe McQuillan awards Dublin the free as the clock ticks down. RTE’s Ger Canning takes up the story:

“Oh no. Oh, Ger Brennan was given the free kick and he has knocked Kieran Donaghy to the ground with a push on the face. The free is going to be cancelled and that kind of silliness will annoy Pat Gilroy and his management team and rightly so, 15 seconds into the two minutes of stoppage time.” Martin Carney groans and says, “That’s unbelievably stupid it must be said.”

He is an outstanding human being with many fantastic qualities. It is an honour to know and be friendly with him. But this is always there. It is in his DNA.

That 2011 All-Ireland final was the most important moment of his football life. It was the culmination of Pat Gilroy’s revolution. Ger got lucky. The Dubs got lucky. When Joe McQuillan cancelled that free and threw the ball up between Donaghy and Eamonn Fennell, it was Fennell who won it, flicking it down to start the last attack of the game. Kevin McManamon was pulled down as he soloed through and with the final act of the game, Stephen Cluxton scored the winner. Joe allowed the Kerry kick out but blew it up with the ball in the air.

Dynasty

Kerry could as easily have won that throw ball. If they had, it is probable they would have won that final. If they had, there would have been no All-Ireland. Gilroy might well have stepped down. The foundations for a dynasty might never have been laid. All because Ger couldn’t restrain himself. Not then. Not now.

The well spring of all successful teams is discipline. Brian Cody used to say that anyone who does anything against the interests of the team in their own selfish interests represents a cancer that must be cut out before it spreads. There is no cancer like indiscipline. Who can forget Mayo’s Donie Vaughan gratuitously decking John Small in the 2017 All-Ireland final? Small had just been sent off by the referee. Dublin would have played the last 20 minutes a man down against a vibrant Mayo. Instead, Vaughan was sent off and Mayo’s advantage was blown.

It is one thing for a player to behave in this way, but when a manager does it, the consequences are infinitely worse. The manager after all is the symbol of his team. The core of his project is discipline. The mantra of all successful teams is that each person in the group does everything in their power for the betterment of the team.

So, when the camera flashed to Pat Gilroy after Joe McQuillan overturned that Dublin free, Pat was calm as Clint Eastwood before a gun fight. His expression was emotionless. He didn’t utter a word or show frustration, because those sorts of emotions are not in the best interests of the team.

Or what about Jim Gavin, serene as the Buddha himself. I imagine Jim after a car crash, lying on the side of the road.

Bystander: Jim, you’ve had your leg amputated

Jim: Yeah, I see that.

Bystander: I’m ringing 999

Jim: Thanks for that, that’s very kind of you, but I’ve already contacted an ambulance and my health insurer.

Bystander: Will I pick up your leg?

Jim: No, I think it’s important to stick with the process.

Bystander: I know it isn’t the best time, but could I have a selfie?

Jim: Yeah, that’s no trouble at all. I think I know your young lad, does he play for Vincent’s?

I cannot think of any successful manager who has behaved like Ger. When Paul Caffrey ran onto the pitch before the 2006 semi-final with Mayo and shoulder charged Mayo’s coach John Morrison in the back, that was the end of his team and of him. This is because his credibility was gone.

When Jose Mourinho was the Real Madrid manager, he gouged the eye of the Barcelona coach Tito Vilanova. Until then, his career had only ascended. Afterwards, it only descended. A few years later, as he dwindled away in the Turkish league with Fenerbahce, he went onto the pitch after they had been beaten by Galatasary and in the midst of a mass scuffle between the players, he grabbed their coach Okan Buruk by the nose.

His career has become a petty anti-climax. Just a month ago, as Benfica coach, he was red carded and banned for petulantly kicking the ball at the Porto subs bench. His credibility (and career) is long since shot, because he puts his own selfish interests before the interests of the team.

If Ger approaches this in a ‘No big deal’ manner, then he is done for and this Dublin group will not make anything of itself. If on the other hand, he owns his behaviour, then he has a chance. “I should not have behaved as I did. It was unacceptable to you, the Dublin GAA public, our kids and the great traditions of the Dublin county team. It was not good enough. It has been damaging to the Dublin GAA family and for that I am sorry. It will never happen again.”

The Dublin six-in-a-row team was derailed by Dessie Farrell’s long suspension for training the team in flagrant breach of the covid rules. That was a bad breach of discipline, but it was invisible, understandable to many, and recoverable.

This is worse, particularly in the context of a team that has just been relegated, a team that is very uncertain of itself and its future. Trust in management – which has been a given in Dublin since the Gilroy era – must be absolute. Last Sunday’s fortunate two point win over Wicklow, a more or less permanent Division Four team, illustrates the point.

Ger played on the edge. But you can’t manage on the edge. Ger has won many many battles in his glorious football career. But this battle is his biggest. Very few people have defeated their DNA.